


13 drops

by Piqueniale



Series: Heart to heart, door to door. [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - salesperson, Deal With It, F/F, Gently, SO IT DISAPPEARS, Sex Work, Vampire!Clarke, Write Drunk Edit Sober, always drunk, but not really, drunk me always forgets to save it, fuck you, it is a long ass story, look - Freeform, now it is a thing, thanks drunk me, thanks sober me for editing, this is the third time i write this, vamp!Clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piqueniale/pseuds/Piqueniale
Summary: Inspired in cupofcoffin's post: "A cunning vampire door-to-door salesperson who stands in people’s doorways and talks until they can find a convenient moment to drop their pen and the person picks it up and the vampire says oh “Thank you” and the person says “you’re welcome” and the vampire smiles a big fangy grin and steps inside And that’s this vampire’s modus operandi for decades And then the language starts to change and suddenly millenials have homes and the vampire thanks them and they say “oh, no problem” and the vampire is like ???????????????? this was not the plan"Or the one where Lexa is convinced Anya has hired a stripper.





	1. First drop.

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever write sober for once in my life? Not today.

Clarke. Clarke Griffin. Clarke Griffin had blue eyes. She.  _She_ still has blue eyes. Sometimes.

Finn. Finn Collins. He had eyes. He was sweet. He faded. She was too late.

Raven. Raven Reyes. Her friend. She needed blood. Now Clarke needs blood.

Blonde hair. She has blonde hair. She needs to find someone quick. And maybe take a sip. She cannot fade. She will not fade.

She searches her pockets, and finds three small vials. Each can make her coherent for about 30 minutes. She needs one now. Before she cannot longer contain herself.

She chugs it down, not even breathing. It is cold, and tastes stale, but it will have to do. She needs to save the others for later. She cannot fade, however tempting it is. Her mother needs her, her friends need her. Raven, Octavia, Monty, Miller... Even Bellamy.

* * *

She feels like she has been walking forever when she spots a dinner. It is too crowded, and there are too many lights. It is a birthday party, so if someone went missing, it would surely be noticed soon. It goes against every rule.

But, of course, she could just break them all... No. No. There is a reason for them. She cannot put everyone she loves at risk. However, if she cannot eat a dinner, there is surely one thing they can provide her with.

In the parking lot, she breaks into several of the cars until she has what she needs, a pen and a paper.

* * *

She starts fading. She needs to focus. A few more steps and she will get to a nicer part of town, somewhere where people are more likely to open the door to a stranger.

* * *

Clarke trips and falls. Everything hurts. No one is around to see her whimper and shake.

She closes her eyes, and moves her hand to her pocket. Clarke chugs the second vial down, and throws the glass far away. A shattering sound rewards her ears.

She opens her eyes, and gets up. She can't be too far away from a decent-sized building.

* * *

The first set of stairs feel more like climbing than walking, and by the time she has reached the third floor, she is about ready to drop on the floor. Clarke curses her bad luck, all previous floors empty, and uses her last power to try to hear any heartbeats. It is faint, probably because Clarke herself is starving, but she can hear at least one strong enough to keep her active for another couple of weeks.

She searches her pockets, and swallows all of it down. This must be it. She cannot fail.

Her senses lead her to apartment number twelve and, without a second thought, she knocks.

There is ruffling on the other side and Clarke quickly fixes her cleavage to show more than her mother would approve of, yet less than Octavia's normal outfits did. Pen in hand, paper on her arm, Clarke welcomes one of the most beautiful strangers she has ever laid eyes on.

The stranger smells like nature, rain and wood. Her mouth waters.

"You are the one who has been banging my door."

"You are the one who would not open it." Bad moment for sassy Clarke to come out to play. But, honestly, she cannot stand people looking down on her.

Green-eyed stranger quirks her eyebrow and gives her a once-over, stopping on her cleavage, nodding to herself in understatement.

"Look, wait a minute here."

Stranger disappears inside her flat. Clarke is about to scream and fake a fainting spell or just doing something that would bring her in, by the time the brunette comes back, wallet in hand. She does not have the time for this.

"How much did Anya pay you? I will double it if you promise not to come back again. So this is why she was hell-bent on spending the day with Aden, ugh. I should have known."

"Uh? Anna? Aden?" She certainly did not expect whatever was happening.

"Anya." Green-eyed beauty look at Clarke, as if waiting for recognition to set in. "Tall, scary? No?"

"Miss, I am Elyza. I do not know anyone by the name of Anya, but I was wondering if you knew anyone by the name of Clary Fray?" The vampire changes the subject.

"Should I?" Green-beauty asks.

"Well, you see, I work for Art-Kadia. We are the number one company selling and delivering every art supply you can think of." Clarke recites, working her happy-and-innocent voice.

"God, at least Anya did not send you."

"Why would she send me? What for?" She asked.

"Uhm... You see... You do look..." The flustered brunette shut up, as if unwilling to continue that sentence.

"How do I look?" Clarke teased, in challenge, almost laughing at the way the girl checked her out again. Honestly, the other girl was fairly attractive. What a waste it would be.

"Good. Very good." Green-eyed beauty did not back down, and instead stared right back at Clarke's grey eyes. The vampire knew, without a trace of doubt, that if she still had any blood in her system, she would blush quite a lot.

However, this reminds her she does not. But she needs it. "I am going to need you sign this for me, then."

"What?" Human asks, looking down at the paper the blonde just gave her.

"Yeah, it is just, you know, you stating you live here and, contrary to what Clary said, she does not and, therefore, we did not deliver the package. But it is not our fault."

"What package?"

 _Fuck, maybe she should have stolen something else as well._ "It doesn't matter, it was not delivered." Clarke grinds her teeth, the lack of blood catching up to her again. She has a few minutes until fading starts.

Green-eyed girl eyes her suspiciously, but takes the pen anyway. Clarke only has a second, and acts by instinct, tripping over thin air on purpose, crashing into the human, who drops it all in a second to stabilize both herself and Clarke.

"I am so so sorry." Clarke apologizes.

"It... It is fine." Blushing brunette replies. She bends down to pick the items up, and the vampire await her next words, praying for an invitation to come in. "There you go." She offers the pen.

"Thank you." Clarke is _not_ giving up that easily.

"No problem."  _Fucking millennials with their expressions and their-_

"You could just have said 'you're welcome', you know." That definitely wasn't meant to be blurted out, but, she does not have quite the same self-control she once had. She is too starved for any of that.

"Sorry, Aden taught me that after Anya said my manners while speaking were a bit old-fashioned and I-." She clears her throat. "I am sorry if I offended you... Are you alright?"

Clarke can only nod, throat burning up, her eyes slowly turning white. The girls scent getting stronger by the second. She is fading, and the hunger is taking over. She needs it. Now!

Green-eyed girl looks uncertain, but nods back. "Anyway, what I meant to say is 'you're welcome'."

* * *

Clarke really tries to move at normal pace. She does. She fights with everything she has, but the battle is lost before even a muscle is moved. Her eyes turn white, pupil disappearing, and Clarke jumps on the unsuspecting girl, who cannot even scream before something-that-once-was-Clarke attaches itself to her magnificent neck.

Once the first drop touches the vampire's tongue, once it slides down her throat and set every nerve on edge, warming her to the core. Once the first drop drops, and not before, is that both of them lose themselves.

Clarke fades into Lexa.

* * *

 

 

 

 


	2. Second drop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Write while drunk, edit while sober.  
> Except, you know, the second part.  
> I really need to quit drinking and smoking.

"Shit, what a motherfucking legend!"

"Anya! Aden is here!"

"Then take him away because there is no way I'm gonna keep quiet about this!"

"Auntie?" a younger voice inquires.

"Come on."

Shuffling is heard, a door opens and closes.

Lexa groans, "way too loud."

"Way too fucking bad," bright light hits the younger girl's face, and, once her eyes get used to it, she can make up Anya's crazy face staring directly at her.

"Can't you stop cursing? Aden-"

"Lincoln has Aden, so don't you dare use him as an excuse. Now, tell me, what happened last night? I thought you were going to ' _Stay and study, Anya, the fate of our people rests upon me'_?"

"I was. I did." Replied Lexa, confused.

"Then how come there is a bundle of clothes laying on the floor? Also, are you even wearing clothes?"

The brunette looked around her, more than a tad surprised to discover that her friend was right. And no, under the covers she was not that much dressed up, with only her panties on.

"Somewhat?" She answered.

"Yeah, you seem awfully sure of that."

"This is all your fault."

"How is this my fault?"

"You hired that stripper."

"What stripper?" Anya asks, while Lexa's eyes open wide.

"No one."  _The girl was telling the truth._

"Did you bang a stripper?"  _Oh, God, no, did she?_  

"No! I did not do such thing!" 

"You did!"

"Did not!" The younger girl raised, ready to defend your honor.

Anya just stared at the girl's naked body. "I don't know whether I am under or overwhelmed."

"Shut up." Lexa moved to grab a t-shirt, which she quickly put on.

"You're fine, okay, like one of the finest things I've ever seen but, I don't know, I guess I still expected more. Some kind of grand revelation or something."

"You are my aunt!"  _Oh, God._

"I have eyes." Anya shrugged.

"Oh, God."

"Funny, that is something people seem to say a lot around me. You know what else th-?"

"Shut up! I do not need that information!"

"Okay, okay, kiddo, relax." Anya laughed. "You're so touchy sometimes..."

Lexa would have killed her years ago, did she not love her like she did.

"Speaking of which..."

"What now?"

"Nothing, nothing. Hey, I just wanted to compliment your new exhibition."

"What exhibition?"

"The one around on your neck, kid. That hickey is so huge, I would be surprised it did not hold a world record with its own museum and everything."

Lexa walked to the mirror, surprised to find herself out of breath by the time she was in front of it.

"Think we could charge people for taking pictures with it?"

Anya's comments went by ignored, as Lexa pulled her shirt's collar down, and saw the large bruise occupying the left side of her neck and descending down to her shoulder, losing its bright tone as it got to her thorax.

"So you know nothing of what happened yesterday?" Lexa ignored the previous comments.

"How would I?" Anya asked. Realization suddenly dawned upon her, and soon she was grinning and visibly holding back laughter.

"It is not funny." The brunette glared.

"It sorta really is."

"Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Anya."

"Neither is having sex with a stripper while obviously drunk. I am surprised you don't have a killer hungover, considering you don't even remember much."

"I am not sure we had sex."

"Yeah, right."

"And I do remember some:"  _Blue eyes, blonde hair. Quite the lioness._

_How do I look?_

_Good, very good._

Did she sign? What did she sign? What happened?

* * *

 

_Clarke felt satisfied. She was drinking slower, savoring the moment._

_There was a second reason for the change of pace, though. But her mind did not do dwell on it._

_She just wanted to keep sucking. She might not need it anymore, but it felt so right. Her whole body was pulsing with the energy she had so desperately needed. And yet. And yet, there was something in the back of her mind, telling her to let go. It was annoying. She wanted to shut the thought down. Why would she ever let go?_

_Clarke sucked harder, frustrated with how slowly the blood entered her. She wished to stop. She wanted to go on. She did not._

_Her lips unattached from the girl's neck, and her fangs immediately retracted upon seeing the mess in front of her. The brunette laid unnaturally pale, the ghost of cold sweat grazing her face. Her shirt had been torn by Clarke at some point, both it and her bra had wet red spots, proof of what had happened._

Fuck.  _Clarke knew what she had to do. Normally, killing was against the rules she herself had established, although the Council really did believe it was their idea. As if._

_But killing the girl now... Killing the girl now was the safest bet. She could die anyway, and if she killed her, the suffering would be cut short. If she killed her now, she could use the remaining blood to fill her emergency supply, which was currently empty._ _Still, it did not sit right with her._

_The blonde analyzed the scene in front of her, looking for alternatives. She had about two weeks before she faded again. She could find blood elsewhere and not use the leftovers of this girl. But, first, she needed to figure out if there was a way to make it all look casual._

_"This is going to be a long-ass night." Clarke sighed, getting an idea._

* * *

 

_Getting her clothes off felt... Well. She had been alive for 94 years. Okay, that was an inaccurate statement. She had been alive for 22 years, or so. She had been on this planet for longer. Still, stripping someone to their panties, while they were unconscious, felt very rape-y. It was an awful feeling. She knew what murder was like, she had been a part of it. Yet, what she had to do still got to her, somehow. It was even worse to grab her from the floor, and lay her into bed, when that meant being so close to her now-freezing, body. She had someone almost naked pressed against her, and while it was for a really short time (hey, having crazy strength and speed is definitely a good thing), it still felt so utterly wrong. Guilt filled her every pore, prickled the corners of her mind. But if she wanted it to stop, she had to make it right for this girl._

_The kitchen was ridiculously well-organized, and she soon found what she was looking for._

_The Gatorade should help her recover some liquid and basic minerals. The hot bottles could help with the temperature, as to avoid her body using all of its energy on it. She cannot do much more without attracting attention to their situation._

_She probably should leave the girl alone to recover._

_She doesn't._

_If asked about it, Clarke would have probably replied that she needed to make sure she was going to make it. That she needed to make everything look casual. And, as a side note, that would have been true. As the main reason... She is not sure herself what the main reason could be._

_She gets up, empties a couple of bottles of cheap wine, and throws them into the bin. Cleans the area where she drank, and throws in the trash both the girl's bra and her shirt. The trousers, socks and shoes seem to be relatively unharmed. She leaves them in a messy pile near the girl's bed._

_She checks up on_ Lexa ( _s_ _he had to pick up the wallet and leave it on the counter. If she took a peak, who could blame her? )_ _At first, she doesn't notice changes and gets scared, always forcing her head up, shoving her throat open and pouring Gatorade like if that could make a difference. After a couple of hours, it does. The girl's color seems to be coming back, and her heartbeat sounds steady. Her breathing is more natural, and Clarke feels herself relax._

_She probably should leave the girl alone to recover._

_She doesn't._

* * *

 

_It is during the early hours of the morning, when the first ray of sun enters the room, that Clarke finally decides to go._

_She checks the apartment five times: everything was how it had been before the blonde's intrusion, with the exception of Lexa and her clothes._

_The bottles? Check._

_Floor? Check._

_Hook-up proof? Check._

_Gatorade?  Could not replace it, but she assumes they will not give it much thought. At least she prays they don't._

_Soon-to-be-healed girl? Check._

_"Sorry, baby." Clarke briefly pecks her forehead. She feels protective over the young lady. She has nursed her all night, she has spared her life. But. Clarke still feels like she owes her. She has to take care of her while she is inside, which reminds her..._

_She should not be inside any longer._

_She must leave._

_It takes her ten minutes of arguing with herself to._

_She does not look back. And leaves it all behind._

A dry red drop taints the trousers.

They lie on the floor untouched, a couple of hours later, when a dirty blonde, a tall muscular man and a tiny blonde boy enter the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me at rocking-my-socks.tumblr.com or leave a comment :)  
> Oh, and akab. All kudos are beautiful, obvsly.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment or find me at rocking-my-socks.tumblr.com :)


End file.
